• Junk Ditch Huntington Tap: prioritize brunch…

    Junk Ditch Huntington Tap: prioritize brunch…

    Pre-pandemic, I was the queen of brunch. On any given weekend, I could walk outside of my apartment and there were at least five different brunch spots that I could choose from within walking distance of my humble abode–with endless possibilities if I was only willing to hop in the car. During my Brunch Queen era I ruled the weekends; slurping mimosas and chowing down on bougie French toast with all my nearest and dearest. A weekend couldn’t pass without at least one brunch resy on the books. But my love for brunch started long before that–we’re talking the 1990s, babies. A time when brunch wasn’t a semi-lackluster weekly occurrence; brunch was a special occasion, where extended family would drive to meet up at some fancy restaurant. I’d ditch my neon-colored biker shorts and oversized Hanson t-shirt in favor of my Sunday best: some atrocious dress that my father had probably picked out. We’d all pile into the family car and hurtle toward a far-off, fantastical destination where I’d see my grandparents, cousins, and most importantly stuff my face. We used to go to this little chalet with a trout stream running through the cellar and a variety of things that could be flambéed tableside…those were the days, but that’s a story for another time. I don’t know when it happened, but at some point brunch stopped being “the event.” What do I mean by that? How do I explain? It’s like that moment where Christmas stops being about the spirit of the season and starts being about the presents–and I don’t mean the giving of gifts, I mean the receiving. It feels like there was some sort of unfortunate cultural shift where we stopped cherishing brunch, a beloved weekend pastime where good food and bevvies are shared with our favorite people, and instead we started behaving like little monsters with an unquenchable thirst for bottomless mimosas. I’m not hating, babe. If bottomless mimosas are your thing, do you. But I beg you to accept this–hedonic adaptation is a real thing, and it’s a bitch. Hedonic adaptation is that moment that your ‘new car’ just becomes your car. That type of hedonism sneaks up on you: and you never see it coming. Let’s not let hedonic adaptation steal the joy of a really good brunch. I propose we take brunch back. 

    Recently, Katie Jo (the Junk Ditch content queen–all hail!) was super kind enough to hook me up with a gift card with only one stipulation: that I check out Junk Ditch Huntington Tap and report back. As soon as they posted their new GK Griddle breakfast sammie on Insta, I was like, “Yeah, this is a no-brainer–I’m going there for brunch.” Sheesh, am I glad I did. I can already hear the nay-sayers in my anxiety-riddled brain being like, “But there’s a Junk Ditch in Fort Wayne. Why would you drive all the way to Huntington, you stupid-dumb-face.” And to this fictional voice manifested from my own self-doubt I say, “It was one of the smarter choices I’ve ever made.” I had a fantastical time. It was honestly only thirty minutes from door to door for me. The drive is gorgeous–do y’all who’ve lived in the Midwest for, like, ever know that you live somewhere kind of lovely? (There goes that hedonic adaptation again. Just saying.) While I flew down country roads in my little pink car, blasting the stereo with the windows down like I was young and reckless again for a moment, it provided time to think the following thought: why are we so content to stay within our little self-imposed bubbles? We gotta get out more, babies. 

    Junk Ditch Huntington Tap is an adorable little spot in an equally adorable little town. Walkable sidewalks flooded with sunshine–this is an excellent place to meet up with the besties for brunch. Enter the taproom and you’ll find an interior that’s chill and entirely disarming. A sort of Modern Farmhouse aesthetic with subtle nods to industrialism–with a single, primary-colored wall mural boasting the phrase “Local Farms Local Food.” How apropos! Now, this is admittedly only my second experience dining at a Junk Ditch location, but I feel really, overwhelmingly compelled to gush about the service. The first time I visited Junk Ditch in Fort Wayne, I was with my friend Lauren, and felt like the service was excellent–you can read that blog post when you finish with this one, if you’d like. But my brunch today in Huntington really cemented for me that superb service is clearly a priority at Junk Ditch. At both locations, they were very much interested in establishing if I’d been there before, if I had any allergies, any questions about the menu, and so on. Anyone who has either eaten at a renowned, fine dining restaurant or has already finished season two of The Bear knows that this level of above-and-beyond service and concern for detail isn’t found at most restaurants that the average person pops into on any given day of the week–but, truly, it elevates the experience. Upon learning it was my first time dining at the Huntington location, our waiter Tristin said, “If there’s anything that I can do to make today special for you, please just let me know.” Now, being the low-key-baddie I am, I would never take him up on this offer–he’d be lucky if I asked him for water if I was on fire. But, for me, it’s the asking that took this from just ‘eating out’ and transformed it into a truly special dining experience. That and, at the end of the meal, he sweetly provided me with a dinner menu to take home with me–in case I wanted to come back for dinner and–drum roll, please–a free piece of GK Carrot Cake to celebrate my first visit to Junk Ditch Huntington Tap. Did he know that GK Carrot Cake is my absolute favorite? Probably not. But it is. So, now I’m in love and want to spend all my time and money at Junk Ditch Huntington Tap. 

    It’s not just the free cake that’s got me giddy, though. My sweet, sweet babies–the food–I swoon. Finding words will be difficult for this one. It’s been over an hour, I should be entirely stuffed, but my mouth is still watering when I think about the bomb brunch I just had. So, let’s get at it: my bestie went basic and had some coffee. But, like, they have really good coffee. They serve up Conjure Coffee and, my bestie means no disrespect by this, but he thinks the Conjure Coffee from Junk Ditch actually tastes even better than what he’s gotten from going to Conjure Coffee in the past. I didn’t drink the coffee, so I can’t weigh in on this–I can only relay the message. I was too busy sucking down a Bloody Mary. Holy guacamole, if you’re into a ‘basic’ bloody that serves on flavor but with just a little tickle of heat, then this is your jam, babe. This is a bloody that’s dressed up with Tajín and lime–what’s not to love? Simple; maybe just slightly left of classic. You know, like enough to keep it interesting without reinventing the wheel. Do I recommend? You know I do. 

    As for food: yes, it was only two of us dining, but we got three entrées because I am a chronic overachiever and when asked to deliver I am going to freaking bring it. (Also, it’s just really hard to choose because everything on the menu is bombbbbbb.) Here’s where we landed: bestie had the GK Griddle, I had the Brunch Burger, we shared the Chicken & Waffles, and also technically shared bites of everything so we both had a bit of it all. Let’s start with the GK Griddle, the newest item on their brunch menu. This little baby is a GK Cinnamon Roll turned into a bun to hold a super yummy sausage, egg, and cheese breakfast sammie. But it’s not just ya basic SEC. Oh no, cutie–we’re talking orgasmical breakfast sausage (I said what I said), perfectly nutty Gruyère, and a pristinely executed fried egg with a picture perfect runny yolk. Bestie says this is for the McGriddle lovers who want to upgrade their breakfast experience–but that’s not my world, so I wouldn’t know. What I do know is that, upon trying a bite, I was invested. I am a sausage, egg, and cheese girl–’til death do us part; this will always be my breakfast sammie of choice. That said, I’m also a sweet and salty girl. Let me one up that, I’m also a “have my cake and eat it, too” kind of lady. This sandwich caters to all of those personality types at the same time. You get your perfect SEC, with the added benefit of sweet and salty from swapping out a regular bun or bagel for a cinnamon roll, and you’re not choosing between a sweet or savory breakfast–you’re having both without sacrificing one for the other. You’re welcome.

    If the phrase “sweet and salty” caught your attention, but you’re not really feeling a breakfast sandwich, I got you, fam. The Chicken & Waffles is easily the best item on their brunch menu. Our server Tristin said it’s his favorite, and even swung back by the table later for a quick convo on the vv important subject of chicken and waffles. See–prior to starting work at Junk Ditch, he’d only ever had your basic chicken and waffles. We’re talking, like, tendies with a plain waffle. Good–but, shall we say, potentially underwhelming? Obviously, this menu item caught his eye and, if I’m remembering correctly, it was the first thing he tried after starting work at Junk Ditch–from then on, he was hooked, and frankly, my bestie and I were also hooked upon first bite. I have eaten more than my fair share of chicken and waffles in my time and this variation is truly special. Upon a perfectly crisped waffle sits pieces of deliciously seasoned, juicy fried chicken. The unexpected addition of orange slices is bizarre in my brain, but more than welcome in my mouth and belly. There’s a maple chickpea puree, adding sweetness and texture, a cilantro pesto, bringing this dish to life like a lightning bolt to Frankenstein’s monster, and an infused maple syrup–bringing sweetness, with a hint of black pepper. We go beyond the basic ‘sweet and salty’ with this dish. We’re covering the ‘road less traveled’ where we bring sweet, salty, spicy, some umami action, even a hint of bitterness all together–like some kind of flavor-based Captain Planet and The Planeteers–to create unrivaled perfection. All the elements of this dish are cool on their own; but when combined the flavor is symphonic and, honestly, better than you can conceptualize without trying it for yourself.

    As for the brunch burger, it wasn’t our first time meeting. I’d gotten this burger as takeout in my very early days of living in Fort Wayne. I confidently told a cheffy friend that it’s the best brunch burger I’ve ever had–and I stand by my assessment. This brunch burger is not your average brunch burger. Why? Your average brunch burger is a regular burger, traditionally a lunch or dinner item, dressed up with some bacon and eggs–maybe maple syrup if someone is feeling frisky–and paraded in front of you just slightly earlier in the day. You’re then told, “This is a brunch item,” and you say, “Okay,” because you don’t want to be argumentative and you enjoy it enough–and besides, you came for the company, so who cares if the burger is just meh. You won’t have to go through that tired song and dance with Junk Ditch’s Brunch Burger. I posit that rather than reconstructing a dinner item (a burger) to be appropriate for brunch, they have reinvented the breakfast sandwich into a burger. Just hang with me here, we both know my brain can go in some wild directions, but have I ever let you down before–-please don’t answer that unless it’s with wild enthusiasm and exuberant positive affirmations. This very unique Brunch Burger begins with a GK English Muffin–for those in the know, obvious perfection. For those uninformed, please just try one of these English muffins so that you may understand the exquisiteness firsthand. This is my first piece of evidence: in lieu of a bun, we’re utilizing an English muffin. Already off to a better start than your average-schmuck-brunch-burger. We then insert into the doughy deliciousness a Wood Farms beef patty–there is no better choice. No more words need to be said on this subject. Top with Ossian Bacon, again, a local staple–this screams breakfast, does it not? Cheddar cheese, yes please. Crispy onion–not something you see on every breakfast table across America, but this is the small detail that reminds you that you’re eating a brilliantly conceptualized Brunch Burger and you will thank them for this addition when you try it for yourself. Then, the pièce de résistance, soft scrambled eggs. A perfect soft scramble is nearly unctuous and buttery; melding with the melty cheddar cheese and horseradish aioli to almost create a sauce of itself to coat this decadent Brunch Burger. I stand by what I’ve said: it is the best Brunch Burger I have ever had the pleasure of enjoying. You really ought to try it.

    Now, I know that I tend to dwell on the positives, leaving some to question as to how forthcoming my silly little reviews may be. And for those who have questioned me in the past, when I’ve had nothing to gain from sharing my thoughts, you’ll likely scrutinize me now–after all, I was incentivized to go to this location with a gift card and was then bestowed the most heavenly slice of Carrot Cake. Surely, it would be difficult for any human being to remain impartial under such lovely circumstances. But, I’d like you to notice something–I was honest about all of it. I didn’t hide the incentive that led me to having brunch at Junk Ditch Huntington Tap–I shared the truth of my journey with you. I could have gobbled down my slice of carrot cake like a greedy little gremlin in secret, but instead I shared the remarkable act of kindness–because that felt important to me–it’s so telling of what kind of hospitable institution Junk Ditch is. So, perhaps, given my honesty on all subject matters, you’ll believe me when I say that the food is truly as delicious as I describe. The staff are kind and welcoming. The vibes are immaculate. I think that this is where correcting our course begins. Prioritize your happiness. Prioritize delicious food. Prioritize brunch. Step outside your bubble–there are amazing things waiting for you there. And if you’re still not sure that you can trust my words (That’s okay, we don’t know each other that well yet–but I hope to earn your trust in time.) You should know that I’m planning to go back to Junk Ditch Huntington Tap for dinner later this week. No incentives. No hopes of free cake. Just the knowledge that great food and good times lie in store for me when I exit my comfort zone. Truly, thank you Junk Ditch Huntington Tap and Katie Jo for such a memorable meal–I can’t wait for my next adventure.

  • Wes Anderson & Wine: you can’t drink wine if you don’t open the bottle…

    Wes Anderson & Wine: you can’t drink wine if you don’t open the bottle…

    My favorite director is Wes Anderson. Never ask me why, I’ll either say too little or too much. The whimsy, the symmetry, the style, the color palettes, the soundtracks heavily influenced by the 1960s, and the understated yet heartfelt performances speak to me. I understand that it’s polarizing–people tend to either love or hate this director. Whether you reverently meme him or mock him; it would seem we as a society collectively have a nearly morbid obsession with Anderson. I’ve pontificated that only those of us who have felt true, debilitating depression really understand and appreciate Anderson’s movies–but that’s a heavy conversation best saved for another time. For now, let’s do a brief deep dive into his film history. I won’t bore you with synopses of all of his films: but I will tell you what wine to drink with them. You’re welcome. 

    Bottle Rocket – I’m going to be real with you, while I love Wes Anderson, I don’t really like Bottle Rocket. Some people who aren’t a fan of Anderson’s style (or, rather, see his style as more of a twee affectation than a legitimate style) prefer this early film to his later works. I am not that person. That said, I phoned a friend for help with this pairing. I called upon someone who loves Wes Anderson, perhaps, even more than I do–hard to believe, but true. I posed my question to him of what wine to pair with the film Bottle Rocket. He answered my question with a question of his own, “What would you drink sitting by a pool at a cheap motel in Texas?” I present you with: Rosé IV by Lost Draw Cellars. Rocking in at about $18 a bottle, it’s not the cheapest option, but it certainly won’t break the bank. Drinking this light, fruity pink Texan wine would probably make Bottle Rocket more palatable to me; but I still think it’s a thoughtful pairing for those who are already a fan of this film. If you can’t get your hands on a bottle of this Texan wine, head to your local wine store, grab whatever catches your fancy off the bottom shelf, and drink it without removing the paper bag wrapping–it feels very ‘in the spirit’ of this (cough mediocre-at-best) movie. 

    Rushmore – Though Herman Blume orders Max a whiskey soda at the ill-fated dinner (they were supposed to be three, not four, but someone invited themselves along) there are near-empty glasses of red wine on the table and a handsome display of fine wines behind where Max is seated. A keen eye will catch that one of the wooden cases of wine reads Far Niente. This is a Napa Valley winery. Perhaps a New World wine is the right pick for this coming-of-age movie about a boy who doesn’t quite fit in at an old-money-school: but it’s his Rushmore and he loves it. A bottle of their Cabernet Sauvignon will cost you several hundred dollars. Surely, this isn’t something Max could have afforded for the table–so, any American Cab Sauv can serve as a ‘safety’ if you can’t quite attain the Sorbonne of wines. I don’t know: this just makes sense to me. I hate to say it, but I really relate to Max as a character and Cabernet Sauvignon feels like that quintessential grown up red wine that a child would order when pretending to be far more grown-up than they truly are. It feels right; though really any tannic red wine would make me happy if paired with this film on the first, crisp autumn day of the year. Tannic red wines are beautiful, complex, (O.R. they?) and invoke a sense of nostalgia in me–just like this film does.


    The Royal Tenenbaums – I’ve always wanted to be a Tenenbaum. So, the wine I suggest to pair with the most quintessentially ‘New York’ of all Wes Anderson’s films is Red Tail Ridge Cab Franc. This very dry, but highly acidic Cabernet Franc hails from the New York Finger Lakes and boasts a label featuring a hawk. (Is that you Mordecai? Did you know the original bird was kidnapped, held for ransom during filming, and subsequently replaced–hence the line referencing ‘molting’ in the flick–the more you know.) I’d prefer a glass of this over a butterscotch sundae any day of the week. While this may not carry the same prestige as a Cabernet Franc from the Loire Valley; part of being a Tenenbaum is perhaps being good, but never quite good enough to impress the most refined palettes. I’m not trying to hate. Seriously. No judgment if you love a New York state Cab Franc; I certainly wouldn’t kick these wines out of bed. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. You don’t just have to be secretly in love with it and leave it at that. So, enjoy a glass or, hell, drink the whole bottle if that’s your jam–you can’t be scared of life. You’ve got to brew some recklessness into it. 

    The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou – Objectively one of my favorites, if not, my absolute favorite Wes Anderson film. There was a time in my life when I had a Life Aquatic themed bathroom. Why? Well, because it’s a brilliant adventure, mostly at sea, in parody of Jacques Cousteau: what’s not to love? Love, unrequited love, whimsical fictional sea creatures, stylish red beanies, everybody’s favorite grumpy stoner Billy Murray and Zaddy Jeff Goldblum (Please don’t make fun of me. I just wanted to flirt with you), and a heart wrenching helicopter accident set to the tune of The Way I Feel Inside by the Zombies. Oh, did I mention the brilliant Seu Jorge tunes? Given that his presence and masterful crooning of David Bowie songs (but in Portuguese) elevates some of the most cinematic moments of this film: a wine from Portugal seems more than appropriate for this pairing. Do yourself a favor and pair a Vinho Verde from Portugal with this film. I’d suggest white, as opposed to rosé, but you do you and then tell me how that works out for you. For this, I don’t have a particular bottle to suggest because, frankly, I haven’t had the pleasure of drinking enough Vinho Verde to really know exactly what I like best yet. But, I’ll keep trying: and one day I’ll find my favorite bottle. I’m going to find it and I’m going to destroy it. 

    Hotel Chevalier – This short film should always be consumed prior to watching The Darjeeling Limited. But if you like to make yourself really sad, you can watch it on its own and then have a good cry. Whether in tandem with the movie it ties into or consumed singularly, Hotel Chevalier is beautiful and also will make all the ex-hopeless-romantics of the world want to puke out their feelings. I said what I said. Obviously, this movie is like a sucker punch to the gut for me. If you’ve never loved someone who doesn’t love you back, but shows up in your life repeatedly with no regard for your feelings because they’re selfish and will choose to do whatever is convenient for them, you won’t understand why this short film fucks me up so badly. (Oops. Did we just get really personal? I think we did. I guess we’re friends now.) So, since I have such big feelings surrounding this short film, I’ll offer you two logical pairings: Bloody Maries or a glass of Beaujolais and grilled cheese sandwich. I’ll let you choose whichever feels right for you. Whatever happens. I don’t want to lose you as a friend. (That’s your cue to say, “I promise, I will never be your friend: no matter what.”) 

    The Darjeeling Limited – While I like this film, it always feels like watching it takes years off my life. It’s such an investment: both literally, in regards to time, and emotionally. (Like…trigger warning: dead children.) I find it best to make this a ‘dinner and a movie’ sort of situation, to help me ease my way through the experience. Fuck the itinerary. I’m telling you what to eat AND drink with this movie. Nothing goes better with this film than a massive bowl of Chicken Tikka Masala and a glass of Merlot. Disagree? Fight me. I’m not backing down on this one. 

    Fantastic Mr. Fox – Perhaps one of Wes Anderson’s most well-loved works, even among those suffering a Wes Anderson aversion (I’m looking at you local chef and film critic Logan Bushey) pairing cider with this film makes more sense than pairing wine. So, of course, you could go the route of Apple Wine or you could go straight cider. (In the fall, I absolutely consume this movie rapidly and repeatedly while crushing the delicious elixirs that Kekionga Craft Co. creates seasonally–I’m not cussin’ with you, the Monroe Cider in particular is a perfect pairing.) However, I think an underrecognized theme of this film is celebration–of self, of family, of freedom, of life! So, I will suggest the Bridge City Bubbly by Threadbare. This Pittsburgh based company has crafted their first Champagne style cider using 100% gold rush apples. This stuff is really like liquid gold–surely Rat (the rotter) would agree, even with his dying breath. It really is (quote, unquote) fantastic. 

    Moonrise Kingdom – This is the first Wes Anderson film that I fell in love with in theaters. It was summertime, I was living across the street from a performing arts center and art house cinema, and I went to see this film repeatedly. (And I also worked at the venue, so I could afford to go repeatedly thanks to a sick employee discount.) I took any friend I could convince to go with me. I think I took my mom and grandma, too. I loved this film so much, I wanted everyone to see it. There’s a particular scene that always sticks in my head and makes me giggle; so the wine pairing is technically just for the sake of that scene and how much I love it. It occurs just shortly after Sam and Susie begin their adventure together. Sam is teaching Susie all of the brilliant survival skills he learned in his time as a Khaki Scout because she clearly isn’t a wilderness chick: she’s chosen Sunday School shoes as her proper ‘running away forever’ attire. They pick up pebbles from a creek bed. He has her suck on them, explaining that doing so will cause their mouths to produce saliva, thus quenching their thirst. After he gets this poor girl to put stones in her mouth he reveals with a shrug, “I brought water, too.” Why are boys like this?! So pair this film with Sauvignon Blanc; a wine with the essence of wet stone (a term oft used interchangeably with minerality). Chablis is another wine which typically has this characteristic, if you’re the kind of bird who’d rather have a French wine. What kind of bird are you? 

    The Grand Budapest Hotel – With this visually stunning masterpiece, drink an Alsace Riesling. These white wines from Alsace, France are drier than their German companions and able to be aged for up to twenty years. Why? Because M. Gustave liked his women rich, old, insecure, vain, superficial, blonde, and needy. I don’t need to say more. 

    Isle of Dogs – Not my favorite Wes Anderson film, but nevertheless one that tugs at my heartstrings, Isle of Dogs is great to watch while cuddled on the sofa with your favorite canine companion. (Walter seems to enjoy the animation. In terms of attitude: I think he’s sort of a Duke but he sometimes also gives off Chief energy. Like, “I’m not doing this because you commanded me to. I’m doing this because I feel sorry for you.”) But what to drink with this nearly post-apocalyptic animation? Tricky to find, but the perfect pairing if you can make it happen: drink Lucky Dog Sake while watching Wes Anderson’s Isle of Dogs. The pairing is so ideal because it’s basically a Sake (aka Rice Wine) juice box with a cute dog on it. No need to thank me.

    The French Dispatch – This film is beautiful and truly genius; though I know not all agree with this sentiment. With diverse stylistic changes throughout the movie, it’s difficult to suggest a singular wine to pair with this flick. Something French seems fitting. We see several different wines appear throughout the various stories told–in fact, there’s so much alcohol featured in this film, Bon Appetit released an entire article on the subject. (It’s a great read so, if this sort of thing interests you, I highly recommend it.) As for pairing a wine with The French Dispatch, I feel like there’s only one right answer. For a French wine that pairs well with a great number of many different things, regardless of style, and is appropriate whether you’re happy, sad, celebrating, or crying–Champagne! Fact: Champagne tastes better when Jarvis Cocker is wailing the song Aline in the background. So, if there’s one thing I want you to take away from this, darling, it’s that Champagne is always an appropriate choice. Always. 
    Asteroid City – I went to the cinema to catch this film on its opening day. I was the second person in the theater for the first showing in my city. Without spoiling the film, I can tell you that it’s the most absurd and chaotic of Anderson’s films thus far–but I’m no film critic, so take my words with several dashes of salt, I suppose. As someone who has revered Anderson for ages, I’m well aware of what people don’t like about his movies. I read an article recently about his latest film that suggests he’s ‘disappeared up on his own ass.’ I counter that Asteroid City is the first of Anderson’s movies to hear the criticism, digest it, and regurgitate it on the nay-sayers. If you think he’s disappeared up his own ass, the joke is on you now–because you were the one looking up his ass. But as for drinks, I can tell you with absolute certainty that you should not pair this movie with bad root beer and movie theater popcorn. (Has it gotten worse? I could barely stomach a handful of popcorn and the stale, chemical-butter taste lingered with me all evening.) Unfortunately, if I’m being entirely honest, this movie also shouldn’t really be paired with wine. I am someone who would like to believe that every movie is a wine movie–but some just simply aren’t that. This is not a wine movie. It’s a flapjacks and black coffee movie. I would even consider an ice cold martini with this movie–but make mine very, very dirty. As for wine–I don’t know, dude. With the intense color palette practically radiating the desert heat through the screen as you watch (or was it that the theater I was in seemed to have no functional air conditioning?) whatever you opt to drink better either be 100% thematically on point or beyond refreshing. Perhaps this is a sangria film. Fruity and refreshing; often masking high contents of alcohol with sugary sweetness. Would you drink sangria in a desert? I might. Especially the one that I had from Bravas–all pink and perfect. Sure. That would fit the aesthetic. That would be the right bevvy of choice for a film where Zaddy Goldblum only has one line: but, sheesh, is he out of this world in this film.

  • Junk Ditch Brewing: a good time a long time in the making…

    Junk Ditch Brewing: a good time a long time in the making…

    Tonight was a big night for me. You see, years ago before I ever moved here, I visited Fort Wayne and had dinner at Tolon. On this occasion, my rockstar server chatted me up and ended up recommending that I check out Junk Ditch. I didn’t back then, because I was only in town for the evening. Fast forward a few years to when I moved here, got some Junk Ditch take out, and loved it.

    I added them to my list of places I *had* to eat at ASAP. I don’t know what happened– obviously the blame is on me–but somehow I just kept putting it off. That is until tonight: when I went to dinner with a stranger. (Just kidding: her name is Lauren, you might know her as @wallabyknits on Instagram, and while we’d never met in person before we have been Instagram buddies for some time!) Everyone knows that Lauren can knit: but her hidden talent is recommending delicious food. Seriously. She knows what’s up.

    Awhile ago she’d told me I had to try the Brussels sprouts from Junk Ditch. We finally made it a reality tonight and, for this appetizer alone, it was worth the wait. But let me rewind for a quick second—because I need to stress how stellar every detail of our meal was, starting from the very tip-top. Before tonight, I’d never been inside of Junk Ditch before. Maybe you haven’t either, so let me tell you: it’s lovely. A casual little restaurant with high ceilings, exposed brick, and gorgeous wooden tables. From the moment you walk in the door, your eyes feast first on the simple, minimalistic, and gorgeous interior design.

    Our server immediately made us feel welcome and walked us through the beer menu: did you know they do $4 drafts on Tuesdays?! Lauren took advantage and tried the Dino Party Hazy IPA—it was a hit for her. My favorite local beer connoisseur suggested that I try the Dach Pils. I read a description on Untappd and wasn’t entirely convinced that this was the beer for me: a single mention of hops tends to send me running in the other direction. However, I trust @beerdsNbeer implicitly and knew he’d never steer me wrong. Boy howdy: I might just have a new favorite Pilsner! Freaking delightful.

    As for the food, you already know I’m going to say good things about the Brussels sprouts. But before we even got our appetizer, the server brought us a little tasty treat: a sampling of their pretzels and pub cheese. Lauren and I both commented that the pretzels looked, perhaps, a little darker than we were accustomed to—but that darkness enabled a perfectly crisp exterior that gave way to a divinely soft and pillowy interior. The pub cheese was fire, too. I absolutely would order this the next time I go; it’s the perfect companion snack for an excellent beer.

    Now for the sprouts: these were quite possibly the best Brussels sprouts I’ve ever had. I don’t say this lightly. I’m a millennial—we are kind of a Brussels sprout obsessed generation. Sorry, not sorry. These sprouts were embellished with feta, pepitas, cranberry and more. Sweet, salty, earthy, and exceptionally delicious—I can’t thank Lauren enough for insisting that I needed to try this dish. It was truly excellent.

    As for dinner, we got pizzas—but technically, it was a super healthy choice, because Lauren’s had veggies on it and mine had fruit. Lauren got the Sausage and Mushroom pizza and was kind enough to let me try some. (It turns out, a great way to turn someone from a stranger into a friend is sharing food with them!) Her pizza was covered in an arugula salad: objectively my favorite green. The nom was cheesy, with that unmistakable peppery bite from the arugula. Lots of earthy umami from the mushrooms. The Yuzu Truffle Vinaigrette sharply cut through the other flavors, adding brightness and a little funk. I liked it.

    My pizza had grapes on it—a first for me. I’ve had pizza with other fruits: I recall once having one with grilled peaches and really liking this. But this Raclette and Grape pizza was truly goated. I’m a little bit obsessed. Shallots, grapes, balsamic, pistachio—all things I didn’t know I wanted on the same pizza, but they played together in virtuosic harmony. Tight harmony. Five part harmony. The pizza is, in short, a masterpiece. I said what I said. Raclette is a pretty funky cheese. Mixing this with the sweetness of the grapes was seriously exciting for my tastebuds.

    Tonight was absolutely lovely. The food, the service, the company: all sublime. If you’re in the Fort Wayne area and haven’t been to Junk Ditch yet (or recently), don’t be like me and keep putting it off: go now. Seriously. Get your shoes on, get in your car, and go! I know I’ll be heading back soon: it’s so good it requires a second taste.

  • Catawba Wine: if it’s good enough for the poets, it’s good enough for me…

    Catawba Wine: if it’s good enough for the poets, it’s good enough for me…

    If you’re in a room full of wine snobs, especially ‘old world wine snobs,’ and they ask you what your favorite wine is–lie. When a pretentious wine snob asks you what your favorite wine is, there are right and wrong answers to the question. Despite what you may like to think, the rightness or wrongness of your answer has absolutely nothing to do with what wines you actually enjoy and everything to do with what makes the wine snob who’s grilling you feel superior. 

    I don’t like when people ask me what my favorite wine is. Those of us who enjoy wine know that the answer to that question may change depending on the season, the weather, or what we’re eating. When a real jerk of a wine snob asks that question, they’re not really interested in your answer: it’s merely a flex. Our instructor asked the question on the first day of my first WSET class–and it set a tone for the rest of the course because that’s the day that I learned to lie about my favorite wine. If I suspect the person asking me is a wine snob, I’ll typically say “I like Bordeaux,” and then quickly change the subject. If a sommelier asks, because they’re trying to suggest a wine from a tasting menu, I’ll often say, “I like big reds, but I enjoy other wines, too.” But, if you were my very best friend in the whole world, and I trusted you more than anyone in the entire universe, and you asked me what my favorite wine is, I would quietly whisper to you, “Catawba.” 

    I should feel no shame about my love of Catawba wine–but the butt-holes of the wine world have worked hard to cultivate an environment where admitting that you like Catawba is basically interpreted as lacking real knowledge of wine and exhibiting a pedestrian enjoyment of it. American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow penned an “Ode to Catawba.” If the poets can see the beauty and value of Catawba, why can’t the wine snobs? 

    Catawba is a “red wine grape,” but it is used to produce a lighter colored wine. It is possible to make white Catawba wine, but most often we see pink Catawba–my personal favorite. An intrinsically American grape, these grapes grow throughout the Midwest and Eastern United States. Wines made from Catawba are often very low tannin, with medium acidity, and medium body–though this will vary by region and producer. Wines from this grape can have a musky or ‘foxy’ flavor, but are often also very fruit forward, commonly with notes of strawberry. Typically, pink Catawba wines are made off-dry to dry. Their hues can range from very pale pink to more vibrant shades of deep salmon–they really run the gamut of the rosé spectrum! 

    Wine Folly suggests that anything you’d pair with a Coca-Cola could be paired with a Catawba wine. I think pink Catawba is the poster-child of summertime wines: perfect for a picnic or porch-sipping. My personal favorite pairing is Catawba and BBQ, but pizza or burgers are also excellent pairings for this wine. As soon as the temperature starts to climb, I’ve got Catawba on my mind. And if you, like me, enjoy supporting local businesses: drinking Catawba is an excellent way to do it. Looking for a fun, summertime activity? How about a Catawba crawl: visit several local wineries, but only sample Catawba. You could also hit up a local winery for a bottle of Catawba, hit up a local BBQ joint for some pulled pork or brisket, and then take yourself and your favorite cutie-patootie out for a nice picnic lunch. 


    Frankly, my love for Catawba knows no bounds and I shouldn’t be ashamed of loving it–the only shame I should feel is shame for ever having hidden my love of Catawba. Wine snobs can suck it: Catawba is delicious. Bordeaux blends have their time and place–hell, they’re some of the best wines in the world… but they’ll never be pretty pink, fruity-cutey, sunshine-sippable Catawba wine. I like what I like–and you should, too!

  • Apocalypse Burgers: if the world is ending, at least we have good burgers…

    Apocalypse Burgers: if the world is ending, at least we have good burgers…

    Is it just me or have you ever dined somewhere and enjoyed it so thoroughly that you soon fell down a rabbit hole Googling what other food-centric endeavors the proprietors of the restaurant might be up to? This exact thing happened to me after dining at Petite Chou in Indianapolis. If you’ve been following my blog for awhile, you’re probably already familiar with my sentiments on the subject of Petite Chou. For the uninitiated, I’ll keep it simple and brief: I’m obsessed. I never anticipated that, upon moving to Indiana, I’d find a restaurant quite like Petite Chou–one that scratches every single one of my itches–well, nearly every single one of my itches. You see, Petite Chou is a refined bistro & Champagne bar. It’s elegant, yet relaxed–but I wouldn’t call it hedonistic. Petite Chou speaks to the closet Francophile I keep hidden away in a dark corner of my heart: but it does nothing for my angry-inner-teen that I keep locked away in the attic of my ticker. In enters Apocalypse Burger. 

    The brilliant minds behind Petite Chou Bistro, Won’t Stop Inc., are the same mad geniuses behind Apocalypse Burger. With a tagline reading, “Revenge burgers, spite snacks and general end of the world anarchy,” my angry-inner-teen was immediately awoken and ready for snack time. The name seems to allude to how this restaurant was born: a smashburger concept that arose from the COVID-19 pandemic. My angry-inner-teen believes this is the perfect food to eat along to a soundtrack of Garbage, Third Eye Blind, Fastball, Semisonic, The Pixies, Eels, and Pulp–but, like, you can do whatever you want, I guess. Check out their website and you’ll see a message from your mom. It reads, “UR MOM CALLED & SHE WANTED US TO TELL U THAT CONSUMING RAW OR UNDERCOOKED MEATS, POULTRY, SEAFOOD, SHELLFISH, OR EGGS MAY INCREASE UR RISK OF FOODBORNE ILLNESS.” My angry-inner-teen squeals with laughter and then puts on headphones to blast Portions for Foxes by Rilo Kiley objectively too loudly. 

    Where Apocalypse Burger differs from other burger joints is that it’s taken the basic concept of smashburgers, fries, and other fast-food-inspired debauchery and elevated it just enough to keep our 21st Century brains and bellies interested. If you’re a gourmand looking for a beef pattie of monstrous proportion, sandwiched between a too-thick brioche bun, and loaded with a slew of unmentionable and unimaginable toppings to the point that you must unhinge your jaw to nom down on the burger: look elsewhere. But if you’re the gastronome who gets excited at the idea of somebody giving you a smashburger with double wagyu patties, manchego cheese, white BBQ sauce, lettuce, pickles, and onions: welcome home. This is where we belong, dudes. This is the place. 

    Let’s start with drinks: whether you want a root beer float or something a little more adult, Apocalypse Burger has got you covered. My dining buddy got the Apocalypse Burger house beer, which is Bier Brewery Kolsch. It is basically the most perfect mow-your-lawn dad beer that’s ever existed and definitely goes great with a smashburger and some fried sides. I opted for the Ramona Sparkling Rosé and, in truth, it’s probably the best canned rosé I’ve ever had. This is definitely a wine I’d pick up for my own fridge to enjoy as a porch-sipper.

    As for starters, AKA Spite Snacks, they’ve recently added Fried Cauliflower and Fried Pickles to their menu. I’ll be honest: when my order of fried pickles arrived at the table (cause there’s no way in hell I’m going to miss out on fried pickles) my eyes were like, “Oh…these look fine,” but upon first bite, my mouth and brain were both like, “These are fire.” We also got their loaded fries: worth it. Topped with a house made cheese sauce, Old Major bacon (IYKYK but if you don’t know that abbreviation you know even less, sorry mom), and scallions, these fries are not for the faint of heart but are also really not to be missed. So good. As a chicken nugget aficionado, I couldn’t exactly pass up on their Chicken Littles. I wouldn’t call these chicken nuggets, but they are certainly chicken-nugget-adjacent. The array of sauces offered by Apocalypse Burger make these little chicken bites a fun snack. Whether you’re dunking in Truffle Aioli, Ranch, or Wasabi Aioli, you really can’t go wrong.

    For burgers, I went pretty traditional, being that it was my maiden voyage. I went for the Smashpocalypse Burger, which I’ve described in an earlier paragraph. The white BBQ provides just enough tang to keep shit interesting, the pickles and lettuce are refreshing, and the Manchego is rich, creamy, and divine. My buddy got the Patty Melt, which was honestly my plan B order, so I got to take a bite. It was goated with the sauce. For real: patty melts preoccupy me. They’re the beefy bee in my bonnet. I love a good patty melt and the one they’re serving up at Apocalypse Burger isn’t good: it’s fucking fantastic. 

    If you’re in the Indy area, this is a not-to-be-missed spot. My angry-inner-teen is a little less pissed off after eating at Apocalypse Burger. It’s hard to be pissy when your tummy is full of rosé and smashburgers. Seriously, I urge you to do yourself a favor and get there ASAP. Your angry-inner-teen will thank you for it.

  • Spotted Lanternfly Honey: an invasive species has never tasted so sweet

    Spotted Lanternfly Honey: an invasive species has never tasted so sweet

    I don’t think it’s particularly divisive of me to say that invasive species aren’t really a good thing. Take the Spotted Lanternfly: after hitching a ride on a delivery of stone, it made its way from its native China to Pennsylvania where it proceeded to cause nearly $43 million in damages. Having previously lived in an infested city, I can assure you, these pretty little nuisances wreck plants–there are about 70 species of plants they’ll happily feast on, leaving a mess of black, soot-like mold in their wake. At the request of the city forester, citizens of my hometown made a habit out of killing any and every Spotted Lanternfly that crossed their path. In the summertime, the sidewalks were practically polka-dotted with the corpses of these pests–and I only wish I was exaggerating. 

    Despite our best efforts, and the many battles won, though we killed hordes of Spotted Lanternflies, it simply wasn’t enough. By 2019, the infestation had reached the mean streets of Philly. The frenzied breeding of these pests was so rampant that Pennsylvania’s Department of Agriculture asked citizens to destroy egg cases and squash adult bugs on sight. The concerted effort has never been enough to defeat the invading species–I’ve even begun to see billboards warning of these pests in my new home: Indiana. 

    But hey, maybe it’s not so bad. These nuisances have shown up, wreaked havoc, killed countless plants, caused millions in damage, and spread across several states. Do you know what we’ve gotten out of the deal, other than upset and headache? Honey. Not honey from the Spotted Lanternflies themselves–cause ew, gross and also they don’t make honey–but normal, regular ol’ honey from the bees. Bee’s honey production has been impacted by the invasive presence of Spotted Lanternflies in an unexpectedly delicious way. 

    It took beekeepers a little while to puzzle together what had suddenly caused an unfamiliar, uniquely smokey, maple-bacon-esque aroma in the honey produced in Eastern Pennsylvania. There weren’t new species of plants for the bees to feast on. Beekeepers sampled the honey, but found it didn’t taste like anything from any of the flowers that would have been blooming at that time. I’d love to string you along for a few more sentences telling you all of the things that it wasn’t, but more than that I wish I could see your face when I tell you what it was that caused the yummy shift in flavor. It was Spotted Lanternfly Honeydew. (Surely somebody reading this just yelled “ew,” but others of you–much like myself when I first learned about this–are probably like, “Well, that sounds cute. What’s that?”) My dear reader, if honey is essentially ‘bee puke,’ honeydew is basically Spotted Lanternfly poop–a sugary excrement that bees love to gobble up. 

    These new honeys tend to be much darker and more amber colored than honeys collected during the same season in years prior. A smokey, maple-bacony aroma is present in many. The flavor profiles will vary, but tend to be warm and caramelized, with notes of date or fig. I was lucky enough to source two bottles from near my hometown in Pennsylvania. My first bottle is from Philadelphia Bee Co. They’re calling this new flavor of honey Doom Bloom and define it as being a “robust” and “smokey” fall honey. I was also lucky enough to get a bottle of Pocono Apiaries Hot Spotted Lanternfly honey. If you’re a honey lover, or just an all-around foodie, I strongly suggest you find a way to grab a bottle or three. These honeys are unlike any you’ve ever tried before and, who knows, we may never get anything quite like it again. It’s really one of those rare gifts from nature. We often say, “When life hands you lemons: make lemonade.” As it turns out, when life handed us an infestation of invasive species, we made something even sweeter: honey. 

  • Rough Draft Taproom Requires No Revision: it’s flawless as is

    Rough Draft Taproom Requires No Revision: it’s flawless as is

    I’ve had several conversations with friends recently about whether certain establishments in Fort Wayne are safe for women to drink at. I hate that these are conversations we feel compelled to have. It truly makes me sad. Despite my desire to always try to see the best in people, the universe constantly reminds me that, unfortunately, not all people are good–and not all people are safe. In times of uncertainty, I try to do as Mr. Rogers so brilliantly instructed: look for the helpers. If you can find the kind people, the silver lining, or the safe spaces, that’s when things don’t look so bleak anymore. This search is ultimately what led me to Rough Draft Taproom, a relatively new Fort Wayne watering hole. I went for the good vibes–no, that’s a lie. I’m sorry. I went for the wine flight–but I stayed for the good vibes. 

    Tucked away in a freshly painted black brick building on the corner of North Wells Street, Rough Draft Taproom is run by Kyle and Kaylie Snodgrass: both the epitome of kindness. To say that sunbeams shine out of their face holes might be an overstatement, but they do radiate good vibes and make you feel welcome immediately upon entering the neatly renovated space. Kyle is the beer connoisseur while Kaylie can answer any question you might have about the wine list. While Rough Draft Taproom is their baby, it’s not their first rodeo. You may recognize them from earlier days working at Two EE’s. Given their history in the field, you can imagine that their combined knowledge and service skills are not just impressive, they’re impeccable. These are the kind of people that you want running your favorite local watering hole. Beyond how cool Kyle, Kaylie, and all their employees are, the physical space at the taproom is also worth swooning over. They’ve created a taproom that is cozy, welcoming, clean, and enjoyable. I urge you to stop by for a sip of something and to check out the decor–I was personally a HUGE fan of the big, comfy, green couch. There are lots of precious oddities and knick-knacks scattered about to occupy your mind or board games available for fun times with friends. From the moment that I walked into the front door, I felt comfortable in this space. I’m not embarrassed to admit that this isn’t a typical feeling for me. I’m awkward, anxious, and often need a minute to adjust–especially in a new place. But Rough Draft Taproom is so full of good people and chill vibes that it’s an entirely disarming atmosphere. This place could very quickly become a home away from home for me–and I hope for you,too! 

    I was lured to the taproom through a mix of good reviews from friends and seeing their curated wine flights featured on Instagram. They offer a Sweet Flight, a Dry Flight, and a Summer Flight. Each comes with four ample pours of pre-selected wines and clocks in between $17 to $20 depending on which flight you go for. Though I am typically a dry-wine-girl, the weather recently had me craving something different–so I set an alarm and woke up extra early to get there right at open and try the Summer Wine Flight. It was bliss–but more on that in a minute.

    In addition to beers and wines, they offer a pretty thoughtfully crafted selection of coffee beverages and even non-alcoholic options like locally crafted Hop Water. My designated driver sprung for an iced chocolate coffee beverage with cold foam. They topped it with the most precious, little cocoa heart. Truth: this place is worth trying even if you’re not in it for the grownup drinks. The coffee bev was surprisingly complex, leaning more toward fruity and earthy rather than the often overly robust or sickeningly saccharine stuff you’re served at run-of-the-mill, less-than-mediocre coffee places. The surprisingly long list of coffee drinks available, and the shockingly stellar quality of the drink I got to try, are reason enough for me to recommend Rough Draft… and it’s not even why I went there in the first place. So, let me tell you about the things I actually went to try.

    Rough Draft Taproom has a variety of noms on offer. Whether you’re in the mood for some Shop260 pastries or you want something more substantial, they’ve got noshes for all levels of hunger. Legalize Marinara is the pizzeria slinging pies from inside the Rough Draft Taproom. On a typical day, they offer a variety of pizzas with different toppings that can carry you from breakfast to dinner. It needn’t matter if you’re vegan or omnivorous: there’s something for all at this spot. As it so happened, my first visit was on Mother’s Day, so a special menu was available to celebrate the occasion. My designated driver couldn’t resist the Pancake Sammy: a grilled sausage patty sandwiched between two pancakes, with a side of maple syrup for dipping–we added cheese like the heathens we are. This sandwich might be best enjoyed by one person as a fun and funky light breakfast; we nibbled it as more of an amuse-bouche to the star of the show. We were the first people to order their The Only One For “Brie” specialty pizza that appeared on their extra-special Mother’s Day menu: pizza crust topped with brie, Granny Smith apple, bacon crumbles, arugula, and hot honey. Some things you might not know about me. My favorite green is, if I’m being truly honest, probably arugula. My favorite cheese is brie. I love apples. Nobody’s ever mad about bacon. (Patently false: vegans. But, I’ll continue…) And, while I think hot honey might be getting just a smidge more attention than it actually deserves, I recognize that it’s popular because it’s good. I feel like this pizza was made just for me and everything about it tickled my personal fancy. The moderately thin, crisp crust served to deliver copious amounts of flavor to my pizza pie-hole. I know that this is not on their regular menu, but I’d very much like to see it return–partly so that others may know the joy that is this pizza in particular–but also, selfishly, so that I may eat it again. If the food that I sampled today is any indication of what they’re serving up every day of the week (and I believe that it is) this is absolutely somewhere I’ll be stopping for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and the occasional yummy snack-time that falls at odd-hours in between designated meals.

    Now for the pièce de résistance: the wine flight. The Summer Flight was composed entirely of wines from Indiana producers. A Two EE’s wine even made an appearance on this flight! (I love a celebration of local products. Way to go, Rough Draft Taproom; you’re awesome!) Since moving here, I’ve made a concerted effort to learn about Indiana wines–even going so far as to take a class through Purdue on the subject. Despite my best efforts to try lots of different local wines and my recent visit to the Michiana Wine Festival, while I was very familiar with every wine producer present on the summer wine flight, I’d only previously had one of the wines on offer in this particular flight. To me, this is a big win–because trying new stuff is fun! To begin, I sampled the Dolce Pesca from Whyte Horse Winery. This absolutely divine peach wine is undoubtedly worth a second sip. If I find a bottle out in the wild, I will definitely purchase it to enjoy as a summertime porch sipper–so sweet and refreshing. My second sip was the Vino Rita from Byler Lane. I will be honest–because I think it’s important that we own up to our mistakes and learn from them. Somebody once told me about this wine and my response was “ew.” I love wine. I love a good margarita. Something about combining the two things felt wrong to me. I suppose I imagined that the only way the two things could be smooshed together was by combining the worst qualities of both things to create a truly heinous, ugly baby that nobody would ever want or love. I’m not afraid to say I was wrong. In truth: I am deeply grateful to Rough Draft Taproom for serving me this wine. It came on the rocks and in a glass with a salted rim–not a way that I’ve ever personally consumed a wine before. I feel like this gave me permission to be a little more playful with how I enjoy some of my wines. (First I drink my champagne from a solo cup, now I’m salting the rim of my wine glass. What horribly irreverent thing will I enjoy next?!) As a salt-lover, this was a super enjoyable sip for me and I will be actively seeking out a bottle of Byler Lane’s Vino Rita for my personal hot-weather enjoyment. I’m thinking I may sip it from a salted margarita glass–wine not? My next sip was Two EE’s Catawba–the only wine on the flight I’d had before. (Many times before, if we’re being honest.) As some of you already know: I have strong feelings about Catawba. I don’t want to say too much, as I presently have a blog on the subject in the works. Just be forewarned–I have more to say on this subject, and you’ll have to wait for a later date to hear all about my love affair with lush, fruity, pink Catawba. The last wine of my flight was another Byler Lane beauty: Red Currant wine. This wine is like a sour patch kid: first it’s sour, then it’s sweet. I believe the name on the bottles of this stuff is actually Rebel Currant and, if I’m correct, it’s aptly named. First sip left me literally puckering. This is a refreshing high-acid wine, but man-oh-man, the initial tartness is an absolute smack in the mouth. As you continue to sip, your mouth adjusts and you can really begin to appreciate the perfect balance of tart and sweet that this wine provides. Sipping this wine is really a journey and I enjoyed every minute of the trip. I’m definitely tempted to go back and enjoy the Summer Flight again while it’s still available–though I’m also entirely tempted to try the dry flight–and I’m already wondering if there will perhaps be a delicious Fall Flight available when the weather starts to change again a few months from now. I’m so obsessed.

    You may or may not have noticed, but my writing on local places really tends to focus entirely on the positive. This may lead some to question if I have negative opinions that I hold in my back pocket and don’t share on the internet–maybe little things that I thought could be better or an interaction with a server that left a sour taste in my mouth after an otherwise delicious meal. I’ll let you in on a little secret: I absolutely do keep my bad experiences to myself. I’m telling you this now only because I can say with complete honesty that I’ve shared my every thought about Rough Draft Taproom in this blog. There’s not a single negative thing that I have to say about this place. Even if you said you’d give me $20 or a bottle of wine to come up with something that could be done to improve the taproom, I don’t really think I could earnestly come up with any element that required improvement. Even when I search the darkest corners of my mind or the snobbiest corners of my soul for a smidge of dissatisfaction: I’ve got nothing. The people, the place, the plonk–all spectacular. It’s unpretentious and practically perfect. My early morning visit was beyond enjoyable: it really set a tone for my whole day and I’m still riding the wave of happiness that began as soon as I entered the doors of Rough Draft Taproom this morning. I’m of the mind that Rough Draft requires no revision: it’s flawless as is. 

  • Tacos with Friends: the root of all civilization

    Tacos with Friends: the root of all civilization

    As a stoner in my early twenties, I used tacos as currency. In my wild-child years I bought many things using nothing but tacos and charm–some of those things are unmentionable in polite company–but I can share with you that two soft shell tacos once purchased me a beat-up, oversized, striped sweater. (I was going for a sort of Kurt Cobain look and that sweater really cinched it for me: thanks tacos.) While not traditionally used as currency, tacos are really just as much a staple in our lives as the dollar bill. I don’t know when the taco was first invented, but I know that it made its way to the United States sometime in the very early 1900s. The dollar bill as we know it didn’t show up until sometime in the 1860s. In the grand scheme of things, forty years difference is a little blip that comes out in the wash–which means that I can assert that tacos are just as important as our system of legal tender and you can’t tell me I’m wrong because I not only did the research; I did the indisputable math. 

    So here’s another fun taco fact for you: Bravas teamed up with Rune for a Tacos with Friends night and I got to attend. There were four kinds of tacos on offer with each taco rocking in at $5, which I think we can all agree is more than fair. There were also some not-taco options: including some chorizo rubbed spare ribs, a roasted carrot tostada, and mini chimichangas. As delicious as those not-taco things sounded, I was really personally focused primarily on tacos this evening. The only not-taco thing that I planned to try was one of two shareable options: patotchos. For the uninitiated, these are basically patatas treated as nachos. The fierce little thrice fried potatoes were topped with queso sauce, taco beef, avocado crema, and pickled chiles. Basically, they’re like patatas that got dressed up for a big night out and couldn’t help but serve looks and flavor. As gorgeous as they were delicious, if this menu item ever pops up somewhere again, I urge you to treat yourself.

    After a glass of Bravas’s house red wine (Ah-So–so good) and a glass of the evening’s sangria: an intoxicating rosé cocktail served with a slice of orange, some raspberries, and strawberries, I found that I was no longer hungry–but I could still eat. I opted for the chips and guac as a finisher and holy guacamole, am I ever glad that I did! These were house fried chips with legendary guac–simple, pure, flavorful–and a bit of what I think was pickled red onion and melon. My dining companion and I honestly couldn’t decide if it was melon or not. We tossed around some possibilities: apple, radish, who-knows-what. We settled on melon. Maybe we were wrong. Who cares? It was delicious. (Chef Sean of Rune was awesome enough to reach out and let me know that they were radish and celery root pickles. My mind is blown.)

    Back to those tacos I’d eaten, because I’m sure you’re all dying to know, there were four killer options: pork belly, “Doner” kebab, beef, and a sort of Indian-fusion vegan option. The vegan taco was filled with vegetable pakora (translation for the uninitiated: battered and fried veggies), a green chutney, and an onion and cucumber curtido. If the word ‘curtido’ is throwing you off: don’t let it. It’s just a refreshing, often fermenty slaw of sorts–in this case, it was pretty big, but thin, slices of pickley onion and cucumber–refreshing AF on what was otherwise a spicy little taco. If I’m being honest, I’m mostly a carnivore type girl who also understands the importance of eating her veggies and occasionally catches feelings for something green. But let me tell you, this vegan taco was stellar. I used to eat Indian at least once a week before moving to Fort Wayne. I haven’t found an Indian restaurant in Indiana that really scratches the itch for me–yet. This taco brought the fusion fire and I’m so glad I didn’t skip it simply because it didn’t offer an animal-protein. Seriously–damn divine. 

    The “Doner” kebab was a personal favorite of mine; though I’d be hard pressed to choose just one taco to rule them all, they were all so scrummy. Topped with yogurt sauce, iceberg, red onion, cilantro, and schraf chile sauce, this taco was just slightly reminiscent of a tapas item on Bravas’s new menu. It’s one of my favorite items on the new menu, so no surprise that I was kind of obsessed with this taco. But was it spicy? Yeah, for a little baby mouth, this thing was a kick to the teeth. My dining companion asked if I was okay–but I was more than fucking okay. I was riding that semi-spiced high of deliciousness. I was as great as this taco was. 

    The beef taco was perhaps the most ‘traditional’ of the tacos: but traditional can still be delicious. Comprised of Wood Farms chuck braised in a three chile sauce and then topped with cotija cheese and pickled red onions, this would be the taco to share with your friend who was maybe a little iffy on whether or not they liked tacos. (What kind of weirdo doesn’t like tacos? Like, I try not to judge but, come on…they’re tacos…everyone likes tacos.) This taco was a prime example of a few simple ingredients coming together to make something larger than the sum of its parts. Decidedly the most ‘normie’ of the bunch, but still delivering on deliciousness. Bravas/Rune seriously slay with their taco game. Don’t ever sleep on their buddy pop-ups. 

    I can’t play favorites, because they were all great, but maybe I kinda sorta had a thing for the pork belly taco. I was sharing my food with a friend (I mean, the pop-up was called Tacos with Friends, after all. Sharing is caring, peeps) and I think the pork belly taco is the one that I hogged the most of–no pun intended, except now that I see what I did there, I take it back and intend the pun. Unctuous pork belly with oyster sauce, a fine root vegetable slaw, gochujang, and chili crisp–this taco brought heat without fire, flavor without compromise, and honestly I’m really kind of obsessed with it. 10/10 would eat all of them again, but especially this one. 

    As for the “and friends” part of the evening, my dining companion had three different beers and loved them all. Sun King Wee Mac, Heileman’s Old Style Lager (which is a PBR sibling), and Tecate. Of all three, Tecate paired best with the food, but all the beers were basically rad in their own ways. In other friend news, I ran into at least one unexpected person who I totally adore and admire. I got a high five which, other than the delicious food and drinks, was probably the highlight of my freaking night. Tacos have a way of bringing people together like that. Civilizations may crumble, but tacos and friendship will always remain. So, let’s find comfort in the constant that is tacos and friendship–both supremely delicious and in abundance at tonight’s pop-up. Well fucking done all! I can’t wait for the next Tacos with Friends adventure!

  • Bravo Bravas!

    Bravo Bravas!

    I’ve never wanted to fight somebody over eggplant before. Enter Bravas, inspiring me to reach new heights of debauchery with their delicious cuisine. They opened their doors to their new ‘weird, Spanish-American restaurant’ at eleven o’clock sharp(ish) on this Tuesday morning. While I wasn’t the first person in the door, I was the first person parked there waiting for them to open–gosh darn anxiety kept me from rushing the door like a crazy person and, perhaps, that’s for the best. I let a nice couple beat me to the door. Their truck rolled into the parking lot after me and, for the record, I just want to be clear that I was there first–Bravas, I’m your number-one, weirdo, super-fan. 

    A bright, white, clean interior with brightly colored art inspired by travels to Spain; Bravas is the cute, Spanish-American restaurant that the ‘07 needed, but maybe didn’t know they needed. In that same block, Bravas once had a burger and hotdog stand. Sadly, it closed. How the surrounding neighborhoods survived its absence, I’ll never quite understand. Now, they’re back, in a new building, with new cuisine. With tables and a bar made of reclaimed bowling alley floors, Bravas has a vibe that is unshakeable. Seriously: even with first day jitters, Bravas staff are friendly not just to patrons, but to each other. I can’t tell you the number of times I caught staff saying “thank you” to each other–even things like, “I appreciate you.” The abounding kindness, on what was surely a stressful morning, was enough to make my heart melt–don’t even get me started on the dancing cook. Seriously, if you’re feeling at all blue, just grab a seat at the bar and wait. This dude’s boogying is sure to bring a smile to even the sourest of faces. A fifteen percent gratuity is automatically added to checks, to be shared by both front and back of house staff. If you’re the kind of person whose butt clenches at the thought of automatic gratuities, 1) shame on you–we can never be friends and 2) watch the cook dance while serving up delish noms and then try to tell me fam hasn’t earned that fifteen percent. 

    Bravas is currently operating in “Pilot Mode,” per the paper menus provided. I assume this means we might be able to expect even more delicious cuisine to be offered in the future, but–even with the limited menu they currently have–there’s more than enough to enjoy! Upon entering, water was poured for me and my dining partner. But, if you want more than water, there’s fountain drinks for $2.25 or a selection of draft, bottle, and can beers, cocktails, house wines by the glass, or even bottles. (I already have big plans to go back for a bottle of Cava–and when you’re making plans to return to the restaurant before you even leave, you know it’s freaking amazing.) 

    To start my dining adventure, I went for a glass of the house red. At eleven o’clock on a Tuesday morning, I couldn’t justify getting an entire bottle of wine–even though my dining partner tried to convince me otherwise. (I love bad influences; they’re some of the best people.) The wine list is inspired by memories and travels to Spain: you can read more about it when you visit the restaurant. For now, all you need to know is that it’s a really delightfully and thoughtfully crafted list. The house red is the Ah So Red–a fruit forward Garnacha wine aged in French oak and served in (hold onto your undies, wine snobs) a can. Bravas is proper and serves this wine up in a glass, allowing you to experience the aromas, but let’s get real, people–this is an organic, canned wine and it’s fucking excellent. Our server was boss and asked if I wanted my red wine chilled or nah–I went with nah, cause it’s a dry red. I did not regret my choice, it was seriously so delicious and incredibly food-friendly. I can’t wait to try more wines from Bravas: a lot of thought clearly went into the selection. I feel beyond spoiled to have a place like this that I can walk to whenever I want to go try some Spanish wine. 

    Now for the part I’m sure we’re all most curious about: the food. While Bravas is currently serving up some familiar burgers that were previously available on the food truck, and a few other new-to-me sandwiches, what I found most appealing was their decently hefty list of tapas. I love trying new things so, rather than eat a burger I’d previously eaten and regurgitate to you the same old platitudes about how astounding their smash burgers are, I thought it best to go balls-to-the-wall for tapas. So, that’s what I did. I started with the marinated olives and Jamon Serrano: both excellent. The olives are served still intact: pits and all. But, they thoughtfully provide you with an extra plate, so that you have somewhere to put the pits. The olives I had today were served in an infused oil of bay leaf, thyme, garlic, and lemon. (Sorry if I missed anything: but I feel relatively confident that I got it all.) My dining companion was surprised to learn that you can eat the julienned lemon bits: but there’s really no reason that you can’t. It’s tasty AF. The only thing you probably don’t want to shove in your mouth is a bay leaf. Otherwise, if you try the olives, I recommend that you really try *everything* on the plate. As an olive lover, I might be biased, but I found it to be a delightful way to start a meal. 

    As far as the Jamon Serrano goes, don’t even get me started. It’s just a simple plate of Jamon Serrano, but it’s deliciously meaty and salty. That’s the thing I found about the tapas at Bravas–so many of the plates are simple, with limited ingredients, but the quality is unsurpassed and the flavor achieved is insurmountable. It all comes down to craft. This really became clear to me during the next two plates that I enjoyed: the Seasonal Veg and the Pan Con Tomate. If you speak zero Spanish, allow me to explain that Pan Con Tomate is just bread, with olive oil, rubbed with garlic, and served with some tomato. While eating it, I literally kept uttering, “Bread has no right to taste this good.” Like, dude–it’s just bread. But this bread is beyond magical. Our server blew our collective mind when he was like, “Yeah, and the great thing about the bread is you can kind of pair it with other things, like the Jamon…” I am not being facetious when I tell you that my brain was like, “Oh my god, you CAN do that!” My dining companion topped a slice of the bread with Jamon; it was choice. I dipped some bread in the flavorful oil left behind when we finished the olives—and I’d do it again, and again, and again. 

    As for the Seasonal Veg, right now it’s fried eggplant with honey and goat cheese. I’ll ask you to recall the first line I penned to open this blog post, “I never wanted to fight somebody over eggplant before,” but when I thought my dining companion was possibly gunning to take more than their fair share of this dish, threats were made. (Sorry, not sorry. The eggplant is more than worth it.) I got aggressive over eggplant and I’d do it again. I didn’t even think I liked eggplant all that much before today. Now, I’ve found an eggplant that I would marry and make beautiful babies with. I kept having this problem–it was a first-world-problem at best–where every time I ate something I’d be like, “Okay, this is definitely my favorite plate.” Then I’d eat something else and say the same thing. I said it about the eggplant: but I also said it about the dish I ate before the eggplant and the dish I ate after. It’s clearly not an issue that only I have suffered with. Our server kept saying every dish we ordered was one of his favorites; but I don’t think he lied to us even once. Everything I tried was just *that* good–so it felt like the best thing that ever happened to me while I was experiencing it. If I was held at knifepoint (I am seriously phobic of sharp things) and had to pick a favorite, it might be the Pintxo Moruno: grilled marinated chicken skewers in a bed of lemony yogurt sauce and topped with vibrant red onion. If you have a baby-tongue and can’t handle heat, you might need to hold somebody’s hand while you eat this, but I think you’ll get through it just fine. It’s got flavor out the wazoo, a smidge of heat, and if I didn’t think Bravas would be slammed enough on their first day without me causing problems as a repeat customer, I’d consider going back tonight just to grab these skewers. (By the way, veggie-holic friends, you can sub out cauliflower for chicken on this plate. So, if you’re meat-free, don’t feel like you have to miss out on this–it’s absolutely one of those not-to-be-missed dishes.) 

    To close out the meal, we opted for a familiar plate of Patatas Bravas. Can you really ever get Bravas and skip the Patatas Bravas? Those fierce little potatoes are why they started their business: we know them, we love them, we need them to be part of every Bravas meal. As always, those potatoes never disappoint. The tapas-sized plate of Patatas Bravas is definitely more than you’d get in a single serving off the food truck (and rocks in at $12 for the plate) but, for me, it’s the perfect sharing size. Last but not least, the Croquetas; or savory dessert as I found myself deliriously calling it. Perfectly fried exterior, exceedingly creamy interior, bespeckled with Jamon–you can’t go wrong. Unless you hate nice things, there’s nothing to dislike about the Croquetas. Truly, I wish I could have tried more from the tapas menu, but my poor little tummy can only handle so many nom-noms.

    To summarize: run, don’t walk. Get there now. Eat all the things. Have zero regrets. Selfishly, I want to tell you not to go, so that I can have it all to myself. The art, the food, the wine: all genuinely brilliant. I can’t recall the last time that I felt so completely blissed out while eating a meal–my monkey-brain released enough pleasure chemical to give me a nice buzz, that’s how good the food is. I would hug each and every one of the Bravas team and tell them how insanely impressed I was with their opening day: they should be beyond proud of themselves. (I don’t know if y’all are huggers but, if you are, hit me up: I owe you hugs.) Bravo, Bravas! You didn’t just do a good job: you knocked it out of the fucking park. You did so well that only one word in the entirety of the English language fully expresses your brilliant achievement. Exceedingly, extremely, tremendously, immensely, insanely, vastly, and excessively simply don’t cut it– it’s fucking delicious.

  • Electric Hero: champion of sandwiches

    Electric Hero: champion of sandwiches

    Some days, I like to dine at fancy restaurants, enjoying multiple courses of fine food with thoughtfully paired wines. Other days, I like to wander into little hole-in-the-wall places and gamble on whether I’m about to eat the best food of my life or get food poisoning. One day last summer, I found myself in Holland, Michigan; a beautiful lakeside community with a rich cultural history, gorgeous parks and gardens, picturesque beaches, and a delightful and walkable downtown area. 

    Despite having a myriad of surely delicious restaurants both downtown and along its coastline, I was in no mood to take the time to sit down and enjoy a full meal. The sky was blue, the sun was bright, and I wanted food that could be enjoyed outside, require little time commitment, and was more comforting than fussy. Electric Hero checked off all the boxes.

    You could miss it if you weren’t eagle-eyed and searching for it. Apparently once a gas station, this little sandwich hut is tucked on the corner of a relatively busy intersection. A tiny buttercup yellow building with several umbrellaed picnic tables; not much to see in terms of artistry and aesthetics. But, the sandwich menu is rather large for such a small space. Was I immediately obsessed and positive that I would return on all of my future trips to Holland? Yes and yes. I’ve since been to Holland multiple times and every trip necessitates a pit-stop at Electric Hero. 

    Sandwiches at this little spot run from about $5.99 to $10.99. On my first visit, my choice was $10.99, which felt fair enough for what I received. I ordered the Bacon Apple Gouda Melt. If you’re not a “Grilled Cheese Purist,” you’ll think of this sandwich as a fancy grilled cheese. (If you are a “Grilled Cheese Purist,” you’ll surely think this sandwich is decidedly not a grilled cheese and I’ll surely think you’re wrong; but c’est la vie!) Sandwiched between two slices of deliciously soft sourdough was nicely crisped bacon, melty Gouda, apple, and hints of sweet, lightly spiced apple butter. I loved it and look forward to eating it again someday; but there’s so many excellent and exciting sandwiches to choose from that I’m still implementing a ‘no-do-overs’ policy when I visit Electric Hero. 

    With that said, I’ll make two observations and you may personally decide whether or not these things are positives or negatives. First and foremost, the menu noted that my sandwich would have “apple shreddies.” The word shreddies puts me in mind of, perhaps, a thin, matchstick-like cut. I expected thin, crisp strips of apple on my sandwich. I received a sandwich that had small chunks of apple. In terms of texture while eating, there was nothing unpleasant about it; I very much enjoyed the sandwich. But, when I’m told I’ll receive one thing and get something else, it feels worth noting. Lastly, the grilled sourdough bread was grilled quite dark. By my standards, it was bordering on blackened. Someone with more exacting standards may have felt the bread was slightly burnt. Do I think this dark color on the bread gave it excellent flavor? Yes. Do I wish they had not grilled it quite so much? Honestly, no; I enjoyed my sandwich exactly as it came to me! On subsequent visits, my sandwiches have not been quite so deeply toasted–and they’re still exceptional every time.  

    On my most recent visit, I grabbed the Not Your Grandma’s Rueben; a sandwich I’d been eyeing since my first visit to Electric Hero. The months-long wait for it was entirely worth it. It didn’t matter that it had started snowing heavily and I was facing a dangerous trek home. Turkey, slaw, bacon, a bit of cheese, and a light schmear of guac made me forget all my troubles for a while. This sandwich really only has one thing in common with a traditional reuben: they’re both excellent. In the future, I might ask for extra guac just to get a little more creamy-avocadoness on my sandwich, but that’s just a personal preference and not any sort of indictment on the perfection that is this sandwich. I won’t even lie, I devoured my Not Your Grandma’s Rueben like a ravenous, wild animal in my car before pulling out of the parking lot to start the long drive home. I felt no shame. I still don’t. Every bite was sensational and it was more than worth any strange looks I got from passersby. 

    Since I live pretty far from Holland, I don’t get to visit Electric Hero quite as often as I would hope. Am I keeping a running list of all the sandwiches from their menu that I wish to try in the near future? That’s my private business and I certainly wouldn’t tell you if the “Pina Cubano” was at the top of the list. If you’re in Holland, Michigan, this is a must stop spot for a quick, delicious sandwich. As someone who really, truly, deeply loves sandwiches, you can be certain that I’ll be searching for any excuse to make the three hour trip back to Electric Hero as soon as humanly possible! Rain, snow, sleet, hail, and my own personal safety won’t keep me away from an Electric Hero sandwich.